Gifts
by Queenafoster
Summary: Murray just needed a break...


Gifts

By Queena Foster

Murray just needed a break. _Really_ needed a break.

From his partners.

It had already been a very, _very_ long day, and it was still only mid-afternoon.

The root cause of Murray's problem with Nick and Cody was their extremely challenging case. An eccentric hermit in Alaska had recently died, and his descendants learned from the man's will that he'd hidden the long lost family jewelry in various locations in and around Los Angeles before he moved to Alaska…in 1928. And they'd hired the Agency to locate the missing pieces if at all possible.

The man's family had provided the detectives with a map to the treasures…from 1928, and Murray and the guys had spent the morning at the library doing research. Unfortunately, many of the roads and much of the geography in L.A. had changed in the previous sixty years and figuring out where some of the long gone buildings, streets, hills, and streams _used to be_ had been extremely problematic. The library had drawers and drawers of old maps from a variety of sources, but roads changed from map to map without any indication of exactly when or why. Not to mention the fact that the family's 1928 map was hand marked, so using the Global Positioning System via satellite wasn't very accurate. And with the building boom in L.A. before and after World War II, it was going to be quite difficult to locate the jewelry they'd been hired to find.

If it even still existed.

Of course, Nick—_always_ a fount of optimism—was of the opinion that if the buildings were gone, the old jewelry probably was, too. But a good retainer and the promise of a hefty bonus if they found any of the pieces had helped to persuade him that it was at least worth checking out. That and the typical cajoling Murray and Cody had to engage in whenever Nick was feeling particularly pessimistic about their chances.

But then, after he'd put up such a fuss about not taking the case, Nick suggested that they conduct the search using the Mimi. As an idea, it had merit as they would be able to compare the old and new maps from a bird's eye view. But on the down side, if they actually figured out any of the old locations, they would have to find somewhere to land or come all the way back to King Harbor and then return in the Jimmy for the ground work.

Cody had immediately objected to the aerial search; he didn't like flying in Nick's chopper even when necessary. An argument ensued, and they turned to Murray to settle their disagreement. In the end, he sided with Cody simply based on the time factor if they found one of their locations.

Unsurprisingly, Nick disagreed. His simmering resentment of Cody—for refusing to fly—and Murray—for backing Cody, made for an uncomfortable ride in the Jimmy. Every time they stopped to look for a possible site—each time unsuccessfully as it turned out—Nick either loudly reminded them that they were _wasting time_ or let his eloquent silence say, 'I told you so' louder than his voice ever could.

Cody and Murray initially tried to mollify Nick, but after their efforts were rebuffed, Cody began to retaliate with surly comments of his own. The back and forth sniping escalated till the two of them were yelling at each other as they drove around L.A. They even managed to drag Murray into it as the squabble intensified into a full blown clash of verbal swords between the three of them. The heat of the day was nothing compared to the heat of their argument.

And Murray got fed up. He was tired after a morning of unsuccessful research, hot and sweaty in the back of the Jimmy, frustrated that their efforts thus far had produced nothing, and thoroughly sick of being in the company of Cody Allen and Nick Ryder. He finally told them both to shut up in no uncertain terms.

Stuck in traffic on the 105, a tense, angry silence descended on the Jimmy.

After five or so _very_ _long_ minutes, Nick rubbed his eyes and temples. "Look, guys, why don't we head back to the boat, cool off, get some food. Just take a break and regroup, ya know?" His subdued and regretful tone signaled his apology.

Cody's sidelong glance and slight nod was his acceptance and simultaneous attempt to atone for the argument as well. They both shot a look to the back that Murray grudgingly returned with another nod. That was about as good as apologies ever got after a blowup like the one they'd just had.

An easier quiet reigned for a couple more minutes as the Jimmy inched toward home. Cody half turned, "Hey, Boz, does the city keep old building permits and stuff?"

Murray thought for a second before leaning forward between the seats. "Yes, they do. Along with permits for sewer, plumbing, electric. The old street car system." His mind was humming with possibilities even as he was kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. If he hadn't been so distracted by their arguments, he might have come up with the idea on his own. Ridiculous to be so easily diverted. For the rest of the drive home, he bounced back and forth between new avenues for research and self-reproach for not thinking of the idea himself.

Finally, _finally, _they got back to the boat.

After being in the library for so long that morning and then stuck in the truck with bad tempered partners, Murray just needed a little fresh air and sunshine without the highway exhaust that went along with a ride in Cody's truck. He took his sandwich up to the fandeck and sat in one of the deck chairs, ready for a little peace and quiet and time to get his head back in the game. Not that he didn't love and appreciate his friends, but after the difficult morning, a little time on his own was a good idea. Murray was just about to take his first bite when…

"Is this the Riptide Detective Agency?"

Murray squinted through the late afternoon sun to look at their visitor. "Yes, it is. Come aboard."

The middle aged man was on the bulky side, maybe two hundred and fifty pounds. His hair was thinning, and he had on thick glasses with heavy rims. He was wearing long, baggy shorts and a bowling shirt. "Are you Murray Bozinsky?"

"That's right; can I help you?" Murray put his plate down and wiped his hands on his pants before standing to greet the man climbing on the boat. Above him, Murray heard one of his partners come out of the wheelhouse.

When the man stood straight again after climbing aboard, he didn't seem to notice Murray offering to shake his hand. Sometimes, a person just didn't see what was right in front of him. Lots of people over the years had accused Murray of the same thing, so he didn't hold the etiquette faux pas against anyone else.

"Are you the Murray Bozinsky who went to M.I.T. at thirteen?"

Murray blinked in surprise. His bio and CV were pretty accessible, but few people actually took the time look them up. Even geeks like himself didn't usually go so far without good reason. Unless the man had eidetic memory, of course, which could certainly account for the total recall. Murray had often wished for such a gift himself.

A noise above caused Murray to glance up and see Cody leaning on the wheelhouse rail, gazing at their visitor. "Everything okay, Boz?"

Murray was pretty sure everything was fine, but he hadn't actually ascertained their guest's business. "Cody, this is Mr.…" He glanced back, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

The man just stared at Cody. "Clayton."

Murray smiled, "Mr. Clayton. It's very nice to meet you, sir. How can we help you?"

Cody started down the steps to the fandeck. "Hey, Nick! We got company!"

Clayton followed Cody's progress down and then noted Nick's arrival without comment. Cody took position beside and slightly ahead of Murray as Nick stood by the stern.

Murray immediately noted that his partners were on alert. Ordinarily, they were able to fool most people into thinking they were relaxed and easy going even when they were ready to jump into the middle of a fight. But Murray had been with them day in and day out for almost two years, and he was sensitive to even small changes in their body language. And they were putting up a front for Clayton.

Feeling the uncomfortable, lengthening silence that accompanied his partners' arrival, Murray decided to plunge ahead. "So you've been looking for me, Mr. Clayton?"

Clayton pulled a sheaf of papers from a pocket of his baggy pants. Murray squinted slightly and saw it was that awful article that Tawny Clark wrote for _Spotlight_ Magazine_._ He rolled his eyes and sighed; that woman and her article of insinuations and insults had caused no end of problems for him. Murray pursed his lips, determined not to let it prejudice him against Clayton. Just because the man had read the article didn't mean that he believed everything in it.

"You got your doctorate from M.I.T.?"

"That's right."

"Didn't the administration want you to stay on and do research and stuff? Teach?"

Well, Mr. Clayton had certainly done his homework. Very few people knew that M.I.T. had offered him a position, and Ms. Clark had certainly not mentioned that complimentary fact in her article. "That's right. How did you know that?"

"But you went into the army instead."

Cody shifted slightly, his eyes watchful. Nick appeared to be relaxed, but Murray could see he was wary and suspicious of their guest.

Anyway.

"Well, yes. I went to work in Special Weapons Technology. You see—"

"You could have done anything at M.I.T., but instead you went into the army. You had to work on what _they_ wanted you to work on. How many papers did you publish while you were serving?"

Murray was taken aback by the accusatory tone. "Well, I—"

Cody held up a hand to interrupt. "Mr. Clayton, why are you here? Is there something we can do for you?"

He pointed at Murray. "I'm here to get _him_ to do what God put him on this earth to do."

From the side, Nick asked, "Which is?"

Clayton's cold eyes shifted to Nick. "I could come up with a dozen suggestions in less than a minute. How about a cheaper, more efficient desalination process? Half the world doesn't have clean water. Or maybe a better banana? It's the third most important food source in the world, and there are hundreds of varieties, but the main one is the Cavendish, and it doesn't even reproduce itself." He shook the _Spotlight_ article still clutched in his left hand. "I read that he built a robot. How about a robot that can fight wars instead of people, huh? How about something good and worthwhile like that?"

Murray shrank a little under the man's verbal assault, and Cody took another step between him and Clayton. "Look, Mister, what Murray chooses to work on is just that. _His_ _choice._ And he doesn't have to justify himself to anyone. Now, why don't you get going." Not a suggestion.

Clayton looked like a brick wall standing there. "He's wasting his talent. Don't you see that? All this time since he finished his doctorate… He should have published five hundred or a thousand papers by now, but instead, he frittered away all that genius on the army and then went into video game design! Video games? _Stupid_ time wasters to occupy _stupid_ people.

"And then to top it off, he comes here to play private detective like a little kid! Don't you see that he's wasting his gift?!"

Murray hadn't felt so belittled since his second day of college when he showed a professor that he had a proof incorrect. The man had exploded in anger, and Murray fled from the class in tears.

Nick's voice remained low and menacing even as he assumed a more intimidating stance. "Well, it's his gift to waste, isn't it? So shove off."

Clayton eyed Nick and Cody and then fixated on Murray. He threw the magazine to the deck, Murray's photo grinning up at them. "No! He could've changed the world. Made a difference. Maybe my mother wouldn't have died of cancer if he'd been working on a cure!"

With that last statement, Clayton reached into another pocket and pulled out a gun, aiming it toward Murray.

But Murray only saw a flash of black before Cody was pushing him down and trying to shove him around the far side of the cabin. A bullet ricocheting off the corner woodwork caused Murray to flinch, and he tripped and fell, bringing Cody down with him. And in the background of his own abnormally loud breathing, Murray registered Nick's roar and then sounds of a struggle.

"Stay down, Boz!"

Stay down? Murray was just trying to keep hold of his glasses and find purchase so he could get out of Cody's way. But the slick wood of the deck, Cody's arm and leg stuck _under_ him, Cody's weight on _top_ of him, and the close quarters of the cabin and gunwale meant he could barely move. Especially with Cody trying to get up even as he pushed Murray back down.

It had been a while since anyone tried to kill him, Murray Bozinsky, _specifically_. _Personally. _Probably the last time was Stephanie Davidson Harper Delgado Kamal's dead husband's family. And Colonel Litvak. But really, even Litvak just wanted to use and then sell Murray, not actually _murder_ him. And it was an absolutely insane notion that someone was trying to kill him just because he hadn't done enough to ease suffering in the world.

Still, as his mind tried to wrap itself around the irrational idea that someone actually wanted to kill him for such a bizarre reason, he could hear the fight going on between Nick and Clayton. Clayton who had to have at least fifty pounds on Nick and probably more. And a gun.

"Cody, Nick needs—"

Another gunshot split the air. Even with the ongoing struggle over the gun, Murray was surprised to hear it go off a second time. And Murray could feel the deck roll under them as the fight swayed back and forth across the deck.

Then he heard a growl from Nick, the ultimate sound that their partner was absolutely _done_ screwing around. The slap of feet, a thump, and then a splash.

The boat was still rocking slightly even as Murray went completely still. All he could hear was his own and Cody's heavy breathing…and the sounds of the pier and the gulls and the other boats in the water.

Above him, Cody was finally able to disentangle himself from Murray's arms and legs. Cody rushed to the stern as Murray struggled to get up in the close quarters. He'd managed to keep hold of his glasses, and he shoved them on as he hurried after Cody to help Nick.

But all he saw off the stern was…water. Water, water, and still more water. Not even any signs of a struggle.

"Nick!" Cody didn't sound panicky, just…really worried. He leaned over to check under the boat. "Nick!"

Murray's eyes roamed the waves behind the boat, but he saw no sign of Nick or Clayton. Or anything. "Cody? Where's…?"

Cody was searching off the port side when they heard a muffled gunshot. From _below_ the surface. Even though the sound was muted somewhat by the water, Murray flinched again. And still no sign of Nick.

Murray felt nauseated. Cody had been delayed in helping Nick because he was getting Murray out of the way. Because Murray tripped. Because Murray was such a geeky klutz, and now Nick was—

Just as Cody was about to dive over the side, Nick's head shot through the surface, gasping for air.

Murray was finally able to breathe again, not having realized he was holding his breath.

"Nick!"

"Nick, are you okay?"

Their partner was still trying to get his breath and didn't answer as he yanked Clayton's head above the water and started pulling him toward the boat.

"What's going on here?! What are you turkeys doing?!" Murray didn't think he'd ever been so glad to hear Lieutenant Quinlan.

Cody and Murray both leaned over the stern to help pull Clayton out of the water. He seemed to be breathing okay, just out cold. Even underwater, Nick apparently had a mean right hook. But good golly, the man was heavy. They were gonna need some help getting him on the dock.

Fortunately, Quinlan had brought backup. Murray didn't know who had summoned the police, but he was sure glad they did. In a few minutes, Clayton was laid out on the jetty, being attended to by paramedics, and Murray was trying to explain to the lieutenant what had happened. Of course, that would be a lot easier if Quinlan didn't interrupt ever three or four words, but that would be even more miraculous than what they'd already experienced that day.

Plus, Murray was distracted by Cody helping Nick back onto the Riptide. Nick seemed exhausted and was moving slower than usual. Murray really needed to be with them, reuniting with his friends after the frightening encounter with the madman. Reaffirming that they were all still alive and together.

Cody finally got Nick seated on the bench and kneeled down to check him. Over Quinlan's squawking, Murray strained to hear the quiet conversation between his partners.

"Are you okay? Let me get a look at ya."

"Just…gimme a chance…to catch my breath."

"Bozinsky, who is this guy? How do you know him?

"I don't know him, Lieutenant. He just showed up and said his name was Clayton." Murray watched as Cody tried to bully Nick into getting checked by the paramedics.

"…just let 'em take a look, huh?"

"Told ya…I'm fine."

"But what was he _doing_ here, Bozinsky?"

"He wanted me to fix the world."

"You? What kind of whack job is this guy anyhow?"

Murray breathed out in frustration. "The kind that brings a gun to make me fix the world!"

"Nick, you're bleeding!"

"Cody—"

"Hey, can one of you guys come check him?!"

Murray whipped past Quinlan, "Nick? You're bleeding?"

Nick was holding his abdomen, right hand tight on his left flank as Cody desperately tried to get a look. Nick closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, "For Pete's sake, it's nothing."

Cody didn't even bother glaring at his partner; he just kept trying to peel Nick's hand away. "How would you know? You can't see it, and you won't let me. Move your hand, Nick, or I swear I'll strap you to that stretcher myself!"

Nick shook his head in frustration and winced slightly as he lifted his hand.

Murray could see that Nick's fingers were red with blood, and it sure seemed like a lot.

By then, one of the paramedics had climbed aboard. "Lay him down so I can get a better look."

"Cody, I swear you have the biggest mouth…"

Cody stared up at Nick, his eyes silently pleading for cooperation.

Murray added his two cents. "Please, Nick," with a squeeze to his shoulder.

Nick's tired gaze rested on Murray for a second before nodding reluctantly, and he allowed Cody to help him lie down on the bench. The shift produced another faint wince despite Cody's caution, and Murray lifted Nick's feet to rest on the other end.

The paramedic pulled Nick's polo away from his left side, earning a quiet gasp from Nick. The bullet wound bled sluggishly, high on his left flank. The paramedic's gloved hands deftly examined the area, gently probing.

Finally, he pressed a bandage on top and taped it firmly in place. "He needs to come in and get a scan. Looks like it passed clean through, but we need to make sure the bullet didn't hit a rib and fragment—make sure there's no internal bleeding. The spleen, the pancreas, the kidney, the colon—all of them come together right in this area. The bullet could have nicked any of 'em."

Murray knew human anatomy and he understood these injuries were possible. But having them laid out like that—by someone who saw this type of wound on a regular basis—was a little scary. Cody glanced at Murray, his face pale and worried.

Murray tried to look reassuring, but he apparently didn't pull it off as Cody turned an intimidating glare back on Nick.

"You're going."

Nick just looked tired. "Don't you think I'd know if there was anything seriously wrong? Huh?"

"You could be delirious from blood loss or infection or hypothermia; so shut up, you're going." Cody sounded a little angry, but his hands were gentle where they squeezed Nick's thigh.

Murray rubbed Nick's ankle, "Nick. Please."

Nick just looked at Cody and then Murray. Finally returning his gaze to Cody, he closed his eyes and nodded once in resignation.

Murray sighed in relief that Nick wasn't going to fight them. Friends did have some rights, and one of them was the occasional demand that the other guy _had_ to give in. Cody and Murray had just made such a demand, and Nick surrendered without even much of an argument. He must have been more worn out than he was admitting.

Now that the issue of Nick going to the hospital was settled, Murray became aware that Quinlan was still stomping around the boat making demands of his own. Murray pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of the tension headache he'd only just noticed. "What, Lieutenant?"

"Well, it's about time you started paying attention to me, Bozinsky. I am the law around here, and it's time you bozos learned that this town ain't your own personal circus ring."

Murray had just about had enough. "Well, do you think you could do something to stop all this illegal _bleeding_?" He gestured toward his partners, "Nick's lost far too much since he climbed back on the boat. _That_ ought to be against the law! Why don't you arrest the deranged clown who shot him? Excuse me!" He pushed past Quinlan and climbed up to the wheelhouse. He needed to—

He just needed a second to pull himself together. And Nick would need dry clothes at the hospital; Cody was a little too distracted at the moment to remember that little detail.

Once Murray got down to the guys' stateroom, he dropped to the end of Cody's bunk and pulled off his glasses to give his eyes a thorough rub. In no time, he felt moisture leak around his fingers along with a tightness in the back of his throat. He managed a shaky breath and tried to rub away the tears. He didn't want Quinlan to know how close he was to losing it.

Clayton must be certifiable. To track Murray down, learn so much about his career, and then try to force him to go back into university based research. With a _gun!_ What kind of sense did that make? None. Absolutely none, so the man must be crazy.

But still, Murray couldn't get over the idea that it was all aimed at him. Personally. And that his partners—his best friends—were caught up in it. They could all have been killed, but his friends never hesitated. Cody literally made himself a shield between Murray and a complete wacko _with a gun_. And Nick was shot and nearly drowned subduing the same nutcase. And all of this after their terrible morning together…an extended morning of ugly, loud arguments and hurt feelings.

Finally, Murray took a deep breath to regain a little more control. He pulled Cody's gym bag from under the bunk and opened the chest of drawers to get Nick some clothes. Looking over the neatly folded shirts—_you could take the boys out of the army, but you couldn't take the army out of the boys_—Murray's mind was on his partners.

He knew they needed him for what he brought to their partnership. Despite all Murray's efforts, his main role in the agency was still research and information gathering, and that work was vital.

But Nick and Cody also loved him. How many times over the years had they danced on the edge of disaster and jail time to pull his fat out of the fire? Or show him another side of life? Or taught him a different way of looking at the world? How many times had they quietly demonstrated that they had his back and always would?

Murray had honestly never understood why the two good looking jocks had taken him under their wings, but he'd always been grateful that they did. How much they brought to his life. How much fuller it was with everything he'd learned from them and experienced with them.

He'd always tried to repay them in kind, learning everything he could about how they looked at life and introducing some of his own experiences into theirs. He wasn't sure they always appreciated his efforts, but they never outright refused either. So maybe they got something out of it. He hoped they did.

And now, he needed to get back to them. Nick hated hospitals. And Cody was worried and might shoot his mouth off without thinking which could lead to more problems. So Murray would be there to smooth the way, to make sure that Nick really would be all right. And that Cody would get to stay with him as much as possible. And that the doctors understood that Nick would recover much better on the Riptide than in their hospital. Because more than anything right now, the three of them needed to be together.

Murray looked in the gym bag: t-shirt, sweats, briefs, socks, sneakers. He grabbed Cody's navy hoodie and shoved it in as well. Hopefully, Nick would be allowed to come home tonight—if Nick was alert at all, that would likely be the case. And it would make them all feel better if he was warm.

Murray zipped the bag and stepped into the head on his way back up. In the mirror, the face that looked back at him was pretty well composed. No sign of leaky tear ducts. His nose wasn't even red. Baba always knew when Murray was upset because his nose turned red as Rudolph. But no sign of that little tell at the moment.

He took another deep breath to pull himself together before heading up. It was time to return the favor; his partners had taken care of Murray, and now Murray was gonna take care of this partners.


End file.
